


True Sight

by Freedoms_Champion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, The Men of Letters are not good with files, True Forms, sort of cursed object, this is not Jack's fault, when in doubt forget the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedoms_Champion/pseuds/Freedoms_Champion
Summary: Sam, Dean, and Jack find themselves in a strange place, looking nothing like they usually do.Dean just wants to stop wearing the dress.
Kudos: 14





	True Sight

“Dude, we’re wearing dresses,” Dean said in a monotone.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam replied. There didn’t seem to be much else he could say, given the circumstances.

Of course, his nitpicking side had to point out, Dean was the only one wearing a dress. Sam was wearing a kilt. Or something that looked like a kilt, because it was pure black rather than tartan.

The walls surrounding them were mirrors, reflecting back what they looked like and Sam was having a hard time wrapping his head around it. After all, he knew he and his brother were human. Why had they suddenly changed so much?

His reflection didn’t match the one Sam usually saw. Long ridged horns swept up from his forehead, like a goat. His hair feathered down to his bare collar bones, longer than it had been for a year or two. His eyes had gained a green glow in the shadows that hung around him, which was unsettling. A heavy fur cloak hung from his shoulders, but otherwise his chest was bare. Sam could see the demon blocking tattoo over his heart. The kilt was held around his waist by a leather belt, the same midnight black as everything else he was wearing. It was knee length, which didn’t hide the fact that Sam’s lower legs were suddenly hairy and ended in cloven hooves the size of hardbacks.

He drew the cloak around himself, chilled by what he was seeing and discovered his fingers ended in sharp black claws rather than nails.

To distract himself, he looked at Dean.

Rather than being draped with shadows, Dean blazed with light. Little tongues of flame nestled in his dark blond hair, giving him the appearance of a crown or possibly a helm. His eyes flamed a living green that made each freckle on his cheeks stand out. In fact, his skin itself shone, as if Dean’s body had been filled with light. He wore a white tunic, sleeveless to show off the handprint burned into his shoulder. At his side was belted a heavy short sword with a hilt crafted from silver. It too glimmered, reflecting Dean’s glow and hinting at its own. The tunic was also knee length and stained on the hem with mud, soot, and blood. Dean’s feet were normal, Sam noticed, shifting on his hooves. He wore Greek-looking sandals, the laces wrapping up his calves.

Weirdest of all were the blond, speckled wings sprouting from Dean’s shoulders. They arched behind him, with what Sam guessed was a twelve-foot wing-span. Sam frowned as he realized that Dean looked a lot like the Renaissance painting of angels.

“I’m sorry, I think this is my fault,” Jack mumbled. Sam had been so distracted by his abrupt transformation that he hadn’t noticed Jack was in this strange place with them.

The nephilim hunched his shoulders uncomfortably, the way he always did when he felt like his powers had gone out of control. The movement made his blond wings flutter and wrap closer around him. Like Dean, Jack skin glowed with light, though Jack’s was the orange-gold of his power, rather than silvery-blue.

Apart from that, Jack looked the way he always did, in his white T-shirt and faded jeans.

“Aw, kid, even you can’t do this,” Dean said, waving it off. “But why aren’t you wearing a dress?”

Jack smiled a little and shrugged. “I don’t know?” he said, a frequent refrain for the boy who looked twenty but had been in the world for less than three years.

“Maybe it has to do with that thing we were moving,” Sam said and discovered that he had fangs when they brushed against his lips and tongue. That was disturbing. Why had Dean and Jack come out like avenging angels while he looked like a monster?

“You mean the thing you dropped?” Dean said with his usual sarcasm firmly back in place.

“It came apart in our hands, Dean! I had to let go or Jack was going to get smacked in the face,” Sam replied.

“I might have tripped a latch,” Jack mumbled, curling into himself again. Sam wanted to go over and pat him on the back, but he didn’t want to scare Jack with his current look. Besides, he wasn’t sure how to walk on cloven hooves.

“I think I saw a bit of what was in that case,” Dean mused, idly gripping his sword. “It looked like a huge mirror.”

“Really?” Sam replied. “There was nothing in the Men of Letters’ notes that told me what might be in there. It kind of looks like we’re inside a mirror.”

He looked around, feeling the weight of the horns shifting as he moved his head. The room with its glassy walls and floor made more sense now. There was nothing that indicated how to get out, though.

“Great, now what?” Dean grumbled. “I really don’t feel like wearing a dress for the rest of my life.” He got distracted as his wings folded, the tips brushing the floor behind him.

Sam took a careful step, trying to ignore the overly-loud click of his hoof. His leg didn’t move the way he was used to, but he could walk if he was careful. He went to the wall and set his hand on it.

It was smooth and cool. Sam’s claws clicked lightly on the glass. He slid it a little to the side and the wall rippled like water.

“Guys! Come look at this,” he said. Dean and Jack joined him, and Sam showed them what he’d discovered.

“Cool, you’ve officially broken what little reality we have left,” Dean said.

“Well, maybe it’s an indication that there’s a way out,” Sam told him.

Jack put his hand on the wall too. It shivered under his touch. “Maybe there’s an opening,” he said. That childlike smile lit up his features and he started moving around the room, trailing ripples along the wall.

Sam went the other way, trying to keep his claws from dragging on the mirrored surface. He met Jack on the other side of the room. Neither of them had found an opening.

Sam pulled his cloak a little tighter, pondering what to do next. He hadn’t tried pushing very hard on the glass. Maybe they needed a little force to get back through…  
The walls rippled and another blaze of light erupted. Sam shielded his face until his eyes adjusted and finally looked at the newcomer.

He could count the number of times he’d seen Castiel without his trench coat without getting into double digits, but he’d never seen the angel like this.

His halo rested on his dark hair like a wreath of solid flame, silver-blue and blinding. His blue eyes, much like Dean’s, glowed and shimmered. His wings, black like the shadow he conjured on Earth, soared almost to the ceiling. Instead of a tunic, he wore a draped white cloth like a toga that left one shoulder and half his chest bare. His pale skin glimmered like alabaster with the power of his Grace. His angel blade hung from a golden chain around his hips, no longer a forearm length dagger but a shimmering silver sword. His feet were bare and like Dean, the edges of his toga were stained with battle.

Sam began to understand. This place, whatever it was, showed them as they truly were. Dean, born to be the warrior of Heaven, appeared as just that. The scars and stains of his hard life remained with him, but his brother glowed with the power of his destiny.

Cas, angel of the Lord, took on the true form of his power here. Sam couldn’t think of too many other things that he’d seen with that much awful majesty.  
Jack, being a nephilim, shone with the power of his Grace, but was still surrounded by his humanity.

With a sting of shame, Sam considered himself. Was his true nature as monstrous as it looked? He’d thought the Trials had cleansed the demon essence out of him, but clearly, he was still the boy who drank demon blood.

“What is happening here?” Cas asked, his voice overlaid with the ring of his celestial power.

“I think somehow we’ve been sucked into a mirror that shows our true natures,” Sam replied, sinking into himself the way Jack always did. He thought he’d come so far.

“That’s crap,” Dean said automatically. “Sam, that’s not who you are. Clearly, something else is going on.”

“Don’t be hasty, Dean,” Cas said. He frowned in thought. “I believe Sam is right. This place reveals the mantles bestowed on us. I am an angel of the Lord, though I do not understand why I’m wearing a bedsheet.”

Sam couldn’t help a breathless chuckle at that.

“Dean, you were destined to be the Sword of Heaven and so you are,” Cas continued. “Jack has more power than any other being to choose his fate and so he only reflects his celestial heritage.”

Those blazing blue eyes settled on Sam and a compassionate smile came to the angel’s face. “And you, my friend, currently hold power as the King of Hell. Or have you forgotten?”

Sam had. He’d never meant to become the new ruler when he told those demons there wouldn’t be a new one, but all of demon-kind had interpreted his words as a claim to the throne. They would show up occasionally with decrees for him to sign, which was a headache Sam would rather do without, but he had to admit he was a better choice than any demon alive.

And in a way, he had been born to do the job as Lucifer’s Vessel. That made Sam feel better. His appearance wasn’t due to his mistakes in the past, just the position he’d accidentally risen to. And while he was intimidating, he couldn’t instantly peg himself as evil. In a way, he looked like some of the old pagan gods.

Sam tried to forget how many old pagan gods had tried to eat him and focus on the silver lining.

“Thanks, Cas,” he said and really meant it. His brother’s angel had actually hit the mark with his comfort this time.

“Awesome, now we know what’s going on,” Dean said. “We still don’t know how to get out.”

Cas tilted his head slightly. “Isn’t it this way?” he said and walked through the wall where he had come in.

Jack made an excited noise and rushed after him. The wall rippled and the light decreased, since Dean was now the only one providing it.

The brothers exchanged a glance. Sam shrugged and walked through the wall.

He stood over the open case, the mirror lying on the floor of the bunker. A second later Dean appeared, standing at his side.

Cas and Jack stood opposite them, wearing identical confused expressions.

“Let’s stick this thing where nobody else will fall into it, ok?” Dean said.

Everyone agreed.


End file.
